


Sacrifices 9

by evieplease



Category: Tom Hiddleston RPF
Genre: Cardiac, Desk Sex, F/M, Physical Abuse, Red Carpet, Scotland, Verbal Abuse, abusive boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mayhem on the red carpet leads to an encounter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices 9

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why ao3 keeps insisting that these are MCU fandom. They are not. They're straight Tom Hiddleston RPF. If somebody knows how to fix that I'd be grateful for a message.

I busied myself while Tom and Felicia were out, starting a pot of soup for supper, chopping veg and browning chicken, setting it all to simmer, and then went to peek in on James.

I found him sitting on the edge of his bed, peering about the floor for his slippers.

I cleared my throat, leaning on the doorjamb with my arms crossed.

“Ahem. Didn’t your Doctor caution you pretty strictly about having someone with you when you get up for the next day or two, while your body adjusts to your new medications, James?”

James looked up guiltily, then sat up, straightening himself. “Yes, he did.” he said a little defiantly. "But I'm perfectly capable of-" I interrupted him.

“And you don’t want to be a bother or a worry? Plus you’re fed to the teeth with feeling so helpless?” I guessed, my head on the side, regarding him steadily.

James pinked a bit and nodded, looking down at his feet rather sheepishly.

“James… May I?” I indicated the place next to him. He nodded and I crossed and sat next to him, taking his warm hand, turning it over and stroking it. So very like Tom’s...

“We…went through this sort of thing with my Dad a few years ago. It’s such a huge shock to realize in such a visceral way that we are all mortal, isn't it? It’s a shock to have to accept and adjust to the compromises and sacrifices we have to make in the name of living.”

I looked him in the eye.

“You have to remember that you're recovering from surgery. There's nothing wrong with feeling tired and weak and emotional, it's normal. It will get better in time!

But you can't rush it. If you push too hard, too fast toward normal you will both hinder your recovery and make your loved ones miserable. You have two jobs right now. Follow your cardiologist's directives, and gracefully accept the help of your family.

I know you hate worrying your loved ones… We all do, don't we? But I'll tell you right now that the very worst thing you can do to them and to yourself is to pretend that everything is fine, and that you don't need their help.

The straight facts are that you do need their help -for now!- and they need to give it. Felicia and Tom both love you, let them show it, right? Accept their help, accept their love, for without that what would you have to live for?"

I squeezed his hand, not surprised to see a tear roll down his cheek. I leaned forward and plucked a tissue from the box on his bedside table and handed it to him. He wiped his face with a rueful chuckle.

"I, I suppose you're right, dear girl. It's going to be hard..."

"Oh, did someone tell you that life isn't hard? Surely you're old enough to know better.” I scolded him lightly.

He laughed. "How did you get to be so wise at your age?"

I shrugged. "The hard way. Just like everyone else... We saw this with my Dad, you know. He thought he was trying to spare Mum. It was his job to take care of her, not the other way around, so he wouldn’t let Mum do anything for him! He was frustrated and angry that he was ill at all, that he felt so weak and helpless, and he was resentful of everything that reminded him of that.” 

I paused, remembering that horrible, awful, no good, very bad time. The more helpless Dad felt, the more helpless we felt. It nearly destroyed our family, until he finally consented to see the therapist that his cardiologist recommended.

“All Mum knew was that Dad refused to let her do anything for him. He kept pushing her away, and she began to think that the real problem was that he just didn’t want her near him. She cried a good few tears on my shoulder...

Please don’t do that to Felicia and Tom… Have you seen how she’s blossomed since you were discharged? James honey, you were very ill and there was no way she could care for you, she simply didn’t have the skill set. It must have been so awful to watch others caring for you knowing that she couldn’t. I daresay she felt helpless and terrified.

But now you’re home and she is able to care for you herself. Do you see what a relief that is to her? James, she needs to be needed. She needs you to need her. She needs you to get better, and she needs to be the one to help you get there. They both do.

Have you noticed the sea-change in Felicia's attitude toward Tom? She asked for his help, he gave it, and she accepted it." I shrugged. "You can learn something there. You may have pushed her to ask for his help, but she did, and now the two of them have a real chance to become family. They're going to need each other, you know. You've given them that. Don't deny them the same for you, right?”

James put his head to one side, regarding me, a quirk to his lips. “You’re rather bright-“ I put up a hand and interrupted. 

“We’ve already discussed the repercussions of completing that sentence with ‘for a girl’, right? No, wait.” I rubbed my forehead, thinking. “That was a conversation I had with Tom!” I huffed in exasperation. “I can see that it will be too easy to mix the two of you up… He's very like you, isn’t he?” I grinned, “Are there any differences between you and your son? I should make one of you wear a bell…”

James grinned back. “Well yes. Two things. Thomas is a deal younger than I am…”

I smirked. “Yes, that follows…” 

Then James’s face morphed into Tom’s very expression of mischief. I felt myself go just a bit pink. 

“And the other difference?”

“He’s not married…” he said suggestively, casting me a sly look. James bumped his shoulder against mine. 

My laughter burst out. I laughed until I found myself leaning against him and snickering into James’s shoulder. I wiped tears of mirth from under my eyes. “You are a rotten old rogue, James!” 

I cleared my throat, and smoothed my hands over my thighs a little nervously, “If you’re fishing for grandchildren, James, you're fishing in the wrong pond…and not for nothing, but it’s really Tom’s job to fish for your grandchildren, yeah?”

James had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Yes well, he's not getting any younger. I do wish he’d get on with it!"

"Right!" He said briskly, "Walk an old man to the loo, dear girl. I assure you, I can take it from there.”

I stood and crouched, snorting and muttering, 'old man, indeed', fishing his slippers out from under the bed, and sliding them on his feet, taking the opportunity to check they were warm and pink with good circulation. I smirked. Tom’s feet are so ugly they’re cute. James’s had gone well beyond ugly. I stood and offered my elbow to him.

“I’m not going to try to lift you, or pull at you. I’m just going to brace myself and you can pull as much or as little as you need, right? And you’re not going to be all macho about it, are you James?” I narrowed my eyes as I said that a little menacingly. 

“And if you fall, understand that it’s my job to cushion you, right?” I glanced down ruefully. “I’m squishier than you, and I bounce.” I shrugged.

He took my elbow, “Yes dear girl, you do.” he agreed solemnly, with the tiniest of twinkles. 

I watched him carefully for signs of dizziness as he stood, but he seemed very stable, only briefly steadying himself on my shoulder, more checking that his balance was good than actually needing to be steadied. He shook his head, growling at even that little bit.

"Knock it off, James! Grace, remember?" I admonished him.

“Goodness, you are going to lead my Thomas a merry chase, aren’t you love?” He smiled fondly down at me.

My smile faltered. I don’t want to think about the likelihood of that right now. James shuffled a bit as we made our way across the room.

James’s grin widened. “It’ll be good for him, I expect!” He shut the door in my face, leaving me gaping at it. I shook my head and muttered. “Delusional old man…” as I turned away.

I ignored the snicker from behind the door as I moved to his bookshelves, perusing titles and keeping an ear out for disasters behind the door. Fortunately all the plumbing appeared to work appropriately, and James reappeared shortly, flipping the light off and turning toward me.

“What did you find?” he nodded at the book in my hands. I looked down and stroked the cover.

“Kipling. It’s been ever so long since I’ve read him, but I adored the ‘Just So’ stories.” I murmured.

“Good.” He tipped his head at the armchairs sitting in from of the window, a small table between them. “You can read to me.”

I opened my mouth for a cheeky reply, but what came out was “I’d love to.”

I allowed him to take my elbow and guide me to the seating area, but insisted that he sit first. When he balked, opening his mouth to argue, I put my finger up.

“Grace, James. Right?”

James laughed his deeper version of the Hiddleston laugh and let me stand as he seated himself. I stood with my hands on my hips in front of him. “So, how hard was that?” I asked saucily.

James groaned and waved a hand at the chair next to him. “Go away, dear girl, you bother me!”

I chuckled as I sat in the other chair and settled myself comfortably before opening the book and turning to “How the Leopard Got His Spots” and began to read aloud.

James is an active, or should I say vocal listener, emitting small chuckles or snorts, or sounds of appreciation as I read. I was glad for his participation, dead silence would have made me nervous. I glanced up from the book from time to time, checking on him. Eventually I caught him in a yawn after he'd been silent for several paragraphs. I shut the book.

"Come on, let's get you into bed before you fall asleep. You're too big for me to carry!"

"All this napping..." He grumbled, but went willingly enough.

"Enjoy it while you can! Call me if you need anything, right?" I tugged the duvet up over his shoulder.

I left him to it. I went downstairs to the kitchen, carrying the Kipling with me, intending to read a bit more, to discover Tom and Felicia returned and putting groceries away. I was relieved to hear them chatting away about mundane things, commenting on how expensive the tomatoes were, and the sunny weather, and the like. The seemed to have, however temporarily, come to some sort of ease with each other. They may never be best chums, but at least they won’t fear each other.

Felicia asked after James and I told her that he seemed in good spirits, and that he was resting now. Finishing with the groceries, Felicia closed the last cupboard and yawned delicately behind her hand.  
 "Well, I think I’ll go have a lie down. Thank you Thomas, for your help.” She stooped swiftly where Tom had just sat, kissed his cheek, and then turned and walked through the doorway. Tom stared after her, his fingers on his cheek. He shook his head and peered around the room.

“Lose something?” I asked with amusement. He looks bemused.

“Just trying to find the looking glass I’ve fallen through…”

I chuckled and sat on his lap uninvited, draping my arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on his other cheek. Then I nuzzled his throat.

“The household appears to be having a kip… Whatever shall we do with the time?” I nibbled on his neck, tracing the tip of my tongue over the triangle of freckles. 

Tom tipped his head up and angled his jaw away, his breath stuttered out, eyes closed tight. His hands crept to my waist, his big hands curling into the skin there with a low moan.

He glanced around Felicia’s bright kitchen. “Not here, love.” He slid me off his lap to stand. Then, oh then, Mr. Bright Boy got a bright idea and a big bright smile. He stood and took my hand.

“Come with me, little girl…” he had the filthiest grin on his face as he turned and towed me out of the kitchen, down one hall, through a parlor, and down another hall, stopping in the doorway of a room that I could not see because Tom’s body was blocking my view. He threw that grin over his shoulder at me and moved through the door, stepping aside so that I could enter.

It was an office. A beautiful hunter green and dark leather study. Floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to bursting, enormous window overlooking the garden, a large chocolate leather sofa and

“…oh fuck me, what a gorgeous desk!” Dark walnut, massive, the surface clear but for a computer monitor.

Tom burst into laughter. “I was thinking the sofa might be more comfortable…” he said with a smirk.

“Tom. This is your Dad’s office.”

“Yep-p!” Tom popped the ‘p’ and rocked up on his toes, his hands in his pockets, looking pleased with himself as he glanced around the room.

“So,” I asked curiously with a smile, “is this a ‘thing’ you have? You like to do women in your Dad’s study?” I side-eyed him.

Tom’s gaze snapped to mine and his eyes heated, the blue coming out brilliantly. He stood straight, dropping his hands from his pockets as he stepped closer to me.

“No…and yes.” he said gruffly, his voice dropping in register. I lost my smile fast and shivered, clearing my throat.

“What do you mean, ‘no and yes’?” I asked a tad nervously. He took another step toward me. This is predatory Tom…

“No, I haven’t brought women in here…and yes, I believe it is a ‘thing’, now. With you.”

Oh. Whew. I turned abruptly away, crossed the room, turned and lifted myself to sit on the edge of the desk, looking him in the eye. I stroked a hand along the wood.

“Seems a shame to let a nice desk like this go, hmmm, unmolested, don’t you think, Thomas?” I deliberately used the name his Dad calls him.

A flame lit in that man’s eye. I’m definitely playing with fire. Good. I’m feeling a little warm around the edges, myself… He reached behind himself and shut the door, the lock clicking in place loud, in the silence.

Tom prowled across the room, his eyes intent. My lips parted at the look on his face, and then my knees parted as he stepped between them. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, delicately opening one, then to the next and the next, all without touching me or saying a word, just staring down into my eyes with a gaze so heavy I felt pinned to the desk, unable to move. 

He pulled his shirt tails from the waist of his trousers, and left the shirt open, framing a slice of his chest, the smattering of hair between his pectorals, the firm ridges of his abdomen, the trail of dark hair below his navel, leading my eye down to the burgeoning bulge behind his zipper. 

I lifted a hand to run a finger down that dark trail, feeling the muscles twitch and harden under my fingertip. I watched the small muscles around his eyes and mouth tighten and firm.

Tom gently took my hand away from his belly and set it next to my hip on the desk, still saying nothing. I took my cue from him, keeping quiet. His hands lifted to the buttons of my pale blue blouse and he began to undo them. Leaning in, he paused, his tea scented breath ghosting warm and moist over my lips.

His mouth brushed mine lightly, tantalizingly once, twice, as he finished opening the many small shell buttons of my blouse.

Both hands framed my face, cupping my jaw as he firmed the kiss, his tongue prodding my lips and sliding warmly into my mouth, dancing with my tongue for long moments. Leaning back, his eyes moved from mouth down to my chest as he pushed my blouse off my shoulders with a small hitch of his breath, his eyes running avidly over the tops of my breasts and the sheer pink of my bra.

His hands moved from cupping my face to cupping my breasts, the feel of his long fingered warm hand causing my own breath to hitch and jump. Thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples through the fine fabric of my bra, Tom’s mouth dipped low, his tongue tracing a line of fire across the edge of lace at the top of one cup, coming to the centre of my chest, between my breasts and the deep dip over the front clasp of my bra, moaning quietly as he ran his tongue between my breasts.

Moving one hand to the clasp of my bra, he worked it open, leaning back to watch as he moved the cups aside, watching my breast fall from their support, his breath audibly catching. 

I moaned. Is there anything sexier, more arousing than the sight of Tom moaning over my breasts? “Thank you.” I whispered on the barest thread of sound.

“No darling, I’m fairly certain that I should be thanking you! he murmured into the breast he was licking. I huffed a small laugh.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked as he moved to licking my other breast.

“F-for that little hitch in your breath every time you see my bare breasts…” I back arched helplessly toward the warm suction of his mouth on my nipple. “It’s…n-nice to b-be appreciated.”

“Well, they are spectacular breasts, darling…” he kissed each one, then leaned up and kissed my mouth lingeringly, as his hands kneaded both breasts. “But that’s not what takes my breath away when I see you bare…” kissing down my neck. “It’s that you’re willing to share yourself with me. It stuns me every time…”

I lifted my chin higher to let him at more of my neck. “…silvertongue.”

“Every word is the god’s honest truth, my Melissa.”

Tom’s hands moved to the button of my jeans, slipping it through, pulling my zipper as his mouth moved from one breast to the other, kissing and nipping at the tender skin. His hands slipped in the gap of my trousers, warm hands sliding to my hipbones under the waistband, fingers sliding behind my hips, hipbones snugged into broad palms, long, strong thumbs pushing into the soft spot just in front of my hips, my pelvis flooding in steadily increasing heat, a small cry pushed from my lips.

His fingers slid further down my backside, insinuating themselves under me, dragging my trousers down. I braced myself with my palms on either side of me on the warm dark wood of the solid old desk, lifting my hips up, allowing him to drag my jeans off my hips to my knees.

Tom moved back a step and sank to his knees, pulling my jeans off my legs and discarding them to the side.

He sat back on his heels and looked up at me, his hand reaching up and lightly stroking the hair from the side of my face. Something in his look that made my heart stutter…

Tom’s eyes traced the path his hand took on my skin as it trailed down. Circling a breast, his hand flipped over and rubbed the backs of his fingers along the tender underside of each breast, his other hand mirroring it’s mate in fondling and caressing my breasts.

I watched him as he watched my body, touching me and noting my reactions, little twitches and gasps. I want to hold as still as I can, be as quiet as I can for him. Because this is Tom’s show. Tom is playing out a fantasy, and I aim to do everything I can to aid and abet him. I’d rather slit my throat than interrupt him. Holy hell, letting him have his way with me is making me goddamn hot. That I’m helping him make some teenaged fantasy of fucking on his father’s desk a reality? That’s fucking orgasmic…

This…this entire scene, the office, the desk, the beautiful man kneeling at my feet, still fully dressed except for the bare body revealed by his open shirt, this is all for Tom. I feel almost as if he were a painter, and I the canvas. His touch leaves behind a suffusing warmth, and trails of small chills, tremors of want on my skin.

His hands slide from my breasts, down my ribs , smoothing over the fading, yellowing remnants of a few old bruises. When he reaches the fresher bruise of my fall at his feet on the red carpet, he leaned forward and gently kissed it, then leaned back and resumed trailing his hands down my body, down my legs to my feet.

Lifting one of my feet, he kisses the arch and trails his lips up the inside of my knee, his hand mirroring his touch on my other leg.

Tom palmed my kneecaps and gently pushed my thighs apart, his eyes hooded, focusing on the sheer pink covered mound at the apex of my thighs. As if drawn by a magnet, Tom’s head dips and he nuzzles the fabric. I can hear his long indrawn breath, the barely discernible low moan. His head turns and sweetly kisses the inside of my thigh. One finger reaches and traces my lips through the fabric.

A gasp and a twitch of my hips escape my restraint. He looks up into my face, his finger continuing it’s journey to and fro along my sensitive lips, lightly skimming.

“You’re wet for me, love…” 

“Oh yesss, Thomas.”

His other hand comes up and they pull my knickers off. Tom’s eyes drop to my pussy once more and he pushes my knees apart again. His warm, slightly rough fingers spread me open to his gaze.

“So pretty and pink…” he murmurs. His head moves close and his tongue delicately licks over me from entrance to clit, and pushes two long fingers into me, easing in my moisture, causing my interior muscles to clamp hard over them. His fingers stroked my walls, searching for that ridged spot, humming his approval when he finds it, my confirming cry loud in the silence of the room.

His tongue circles around my clit, god, so fucking hot…around and around, his fingers pushing into me, tapping at that spot. One large hand went between my breasts, pushing me slowly back onto my elbows, making more room for his face between my legs.

Abruptly, his lips fasten around my clit, sucking it into his mouth, suckling. I fall flat on my back on the desk, as I forced back a scream, my head arched back, body arched up, and hands curled around the edges of the desk, my nails digging into the underside of the wood. 

He pulls my knees over his shoulders. My hips are moving entirely independent of any thought. His tongue began to lash at my clit, setting off sparks and the first warning pulses of my orgasm.

“T-Tom…!” I cry out, drawn tight as a bowstring, my hips jutting and my neck arched back, I came, the waves of pleasure rolling me under and drowning me, a cry ripped from my lungs.

Still riding the waves, Tom flipped me onto my belly, his strong hands positioning my hips. I heard a zipper ratchet down and he was suddenly inside me to the hilt, his thrust shoving me across the desk, my skin slick with sweat. My body limp from my climax, Tom took control of me, yanking me back onto his surging cock, fingers digging into my hips.

A cry of pain was wrenched from me as his fingers dug into the bruise on my hip. Tom instantly released that hand, planting it on the desk near my face, not breaking his rhythm. Thank god.

I vaguely watched his hand, his fingertips white with the pressure of his grip on the desk’s surface, veins and tendons standing out starkly under his skin. I curled a hand around his wrist, feeling the flex and shift of the muscles under my fingers, distracting myself from the minor pain, my eyes tracing his beautiful forearm up to the folded over sleeve at his elbow.

He drove a cry from me with each thrust, my thighs hitting the edge of the desk, my breasts smashed flat and pulling slickly against the varnished surface.

“Thomas, fuck!!” Tom pounded into me over and over again, his thrusts getting more and more fierce, his weight pressing me flat.

He changed his grip, circling his hands under my arms and over the tops of my shoulders, rendering me utterly helpless, yanking my body onto his cock as he drove forward relentlessly.

Oh my god, I’m going to…! I come again, hard, feeling Tom join me on a last lunge. I twisted my head to see him over my shoulder. I looked up the long stretch of his neck, his head thrown right back, his adam’s apple in stark relief, neck tendons straining as a deep throated groaning emanated from his chest, as he pulsed into me. Dear god, he’s beautiful…

After a long straining moment, his head came up and looked into my eyes, body still draped over mine.

“Thomas.” I murmured, lifting my head to brush my cheek against his. I felt him firm his legs, lifting some but not all of his weight from me, just enough to feel him, not enough to crush me. His head dipped down and mouthed the back of my neck.

“Melissa…” he whispered in my ear, his teeth latching onto my earlobe and tugging lightly. I turned my head and met his lips over my shoulder, his mouth warm and tracing mine, sucking at my lower lip and failing to find a grip at that angle.

He huffed out a laugh and rolled up slowly from my body, slipping out of me as I groaned, and turning me to my back before settling between my hips once more. My legs and arms wrapped around him automatically, drawing him into a full body hug. 

I moaned slightly, just beginning to fall back into my body and feel the vigorous fucking I’d just had, and remembering my soreness this morning. I think tomorrow morning isn’t going to feel any better…

Eventually we untangled ourselves and dressed. I looked down at his Dad’s desk, wincing at the mess that I’d left there as I buttoned my blouse.

“Tom,” I laughed, “It’s one thing if you want to wave your dick at your Dad, but-“

“Wave my dick at my Dad?! Really, darling!” he burst out laughing.

“I won’t insist on the metaphor. But I’d prefer,” I pointed to the smeary boob prints on the previously shiny desktop, “that you not wave me at him as well…”

“Of course not, darling! For some reason the idea of my Dad knowing what I’ve done here with you…” he grimaced. “Just…no.”

“Got it all out of your system, then?” I teased as I tucked my blouse into my waistband, my head bent as my hands smoothed the silk down. Tom took a long step and stood in front of me, waiting until I looked up.

“That? Yes. You, on the other hand…not so much, Melissa.” His hands grasped my upper arms and he kissed me deeply, then wrapped his arms around me and settled my ear against his heartbeat, his hand cradling my head there.


End file.
